


The Doctor Goes Grocery Shopping

by RockyMountainRattlesnake



Series: The Cutting Room Floor [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Gen, Grocery Shopping, Humor, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 14:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21147332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockyMountainRattlesnake/pseuds/RockyMountainRattlesnake
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. The Doctor goes grocery shopping, like a normal human being. And we all know how good he is at normal.A deleted scene from another fic that amused me, so it's getting posted.





	The Doctor Goes Grocery Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> I prefer to use Canadian English in my prose, and UK English for dialogue when spoken by British characters. "Chips" in this case refer to crisps. Thanks for your understanding.

The Doctor hummed to himself, pushing the shopping cart down the aisles. The smells of a grocery store surrounded him; bright lights, shiny packages, and food! Food! Every piece of food had a unique smell, and just-

There was something nice, he mused as he grabbed a stick of butter, about an Earth grocery store in the 21st century. Everything was very…human. From the human cashiers manning the tills of a simple food shop, to the humans stocking the shelves…every job like this, on his home planet, had been fully automated.

And yet, there was such plenty. He’d been to worlds where a simple can of beans would make the locals weep in gratitude, worlds where food had to be imported at immense cost. And here he was with a cavernous wire-mesh cart, loading up on ingredients.

He checked his list, ignoring the strange look from the stock boy behind him; if he wanted to write his shopping list in his native tongue, what was the harm in that?

Right, eggs. And…oil? God, baking was COMPLICATED…

He hummed, grabbing a few more things, and wondering why Rory and Amy had seemed so pensive about this little shopping trip.

Honestly. He was 900 years old, for Rassilon’s sake, he hadn’t been a kid for _at least_ 500 years. He could handle his own shopping.

Alright, that did it for the ingredients. Fresher was better when it came to this sort of thing, after all.

Now, the snacks.

He turned down the aisle with what the locals called chips and what his companions called crisps. He walked slowly, studying the racks for the green-and-beige bag that contained his current favourite type of potato chip.

Ah, there it was. Green and beige bag. He seized it immediately.

And then stared at the lone bag in the cart for a minute.

It WAS, admittedly, a “Family size!” bag, at least according to the text on it, but, well.

There was no way that was going to last him more than fifteen minutes. Not with what he had planned.

The Doctor wasn’t tall enough to reach the back of the shelf where lay his favourite chips, but fortunately all the other shelves were there to be a handy stepladder for him.

Brilliant.

Why was that old woman giving him a death glare?

He started grabbing bags and chucking them into the cart, Salt-and-Vinegar flavour, and then maybe a few more other random flavours for good measure.

What were ketchup chips?

He wanted some. Actually, no, he wanted ALL OF THEM.

“Excuse me!”

The Doctor turned around, half hanging off a shelf with his foot up on another, and smiled.

The young woman had a badge that read CINDY and then MANAGER, and she did not look impressed.

“Hi! Yes, sorry, I was just going now!” he said, hopping off the shelf and wheeling his cart towards the checkout.

There wasn’t any line for one of the tills, and a young man was waiting expectantly. Although, the look of dawning concern on his face when the Doctor pulled into his aisle was slightly concerning, but oh well.

“Uh,” the young man said- NATHAN, according to his badge.

“Hello!” the Doctor said brightly, offloading an armful of his chips in a big crunchy pile onto the conveyor belt.

The cashier watched with dawning horror as the Doctor built a wobbling pile of family-size potato chip bags that tottered on the conveyor belt.

“…Are there any chips left in the store?” The clerk asked, scanning the first bag in, “What’s the plan? Fill a pool with them, or somethin’?”

“Oh, no!” The Doctor said with a smile, making a tiny pile of his baking ingredients right behind Mount Saint Salt And Carbs, “No, I’m just planning a night in with my com- my friends. Yes.”

The clerk looked at him, scanning the fifth bag of chips and putting it in plastic, “Uh, how many friends do you have, exactly?”

“Two. Two are invited. This bag-“ he held up a bag of “All-dressed” chips- “is for them. These are all for me.”

The clerk looked at the skinny British man in front of him, and then at the giant pile of potato chips, and then back to the skinny British man.

“…O…kay…” he said, scanning the next bag, and the next one, and the next one.

The Doctor hopped impatiently on the balls of his feet, checking his list again. Everything except the bananas, and he could live without them.

The Doctor watched his bill climb and climb, and fished around in his pockets for some of his freshly-made currency.

Which he’d made by finding an unattended ATM and making vaguely “doing a withdrawal” sort of motions while pointing his sonic screwdriver at the bit where money came out until he had enough. Stealing? Probably a little bit. Did he care? Not really, no.

The bill was roughly two hundred dollars, and the Doctor happily counted out the nice-smelling green plastic twenties, handing them over to Nathan. He had to stomp on a strong urge to hold the money to his face and have a big long sniff. It smelled sweet, even from a distance. But that wasn’t really a normal thing to do, and the young man was concerned enough as it was-

Oh, bollocks to it. He gave his remaining bills a good sniff.

Mmm. Maple-y. And a faint hint of plastic. And lubricant.

Nathan was looking at him like he’d gone off his rocker.

The Doctor just smiled at him sweetly as he loaded up his cart with all his bags.

Groceries thus paid for, and Nathan thusly confused, the Doctor headed towards the door.

He wheeled his load of chips into the parking lot, where the TARDIS was sitting. This was a park job that needed to be immortalized in an oil painting, frankly; she was sitting between someone’s pickup truck and a small sedan, inside the yellow lines with feet to spare.

A young man was leaning on the sedan, examining the blue box with an eyebrow raised. He had a cigarette in his hand and was taking the odd puff as he stared.

The Doctor smiled, unlocking the door and opening it, starting to load his groceries into the front entrance; the TARDIS would spirit them away into the galley, saving him the trouble.

“Uh,” the man said, “Are- yeah. That’s a box, buddy. Is- Like- Is this a prank or something? This gonna end up on Youtube?”

The Doctor cocked his head.

“Um, no? This is a car park. For vehicles, correct? This is my vehicle. I’ve parked it here. That’s what these little spots are for, right?”

The man stared at him.

“That’s…your vehicle.” He said flatly, “O…kay…”

The Doctor hefted up another straining plastic bag, until the man’s self-control snapped.

“You need any help with that?” he asked, and the Doctor shook his head.

“No, no, I’m perfectly fine…” Bags went into the TARDIS and crunched on the floor, and the young man watched this tweed-covered weirdo continue to load up his weird blue box like it wasn’t anything special.

“…You, uh, you’re really gonna take that thing home, aren’t you?” the man said, looking around, “Look, if that actually is your…ride… I got a friend with a truck, we can just…load it up in the back of his, like… I don’t want you getting stuck out here…”

The Doctor offloaded the last bag and shook his head. He wheeled the cart over to the cart return- _because what a novelty, having to return shopping aids yourself by hand, the early 21st century was such a weird and wonderful time- _and stepped into his TARDIS.

He gave the young man a quick wave and slammed the door behind himself.

The young man watched as the TARDIS dematerialized, blinking several times and looking at the cigarette he’d been smoking.

He tossed it away.

“I fucking quit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Hated it? Want a full series of every Doctor's shopping adventures? (That's probably not gonna happen...) Leave a comment! I love them all.


End file.
